Despite the not so great weather, it looks like this year’s Midpoint Music Festival was a big success—no thanks to that ever so “hip” restaurant and bar at 38 Fountain Square Plaza called the Cadillac Ranch.

Apparently, the first act that performed there Saturday night wasn’t as entertaining as their oh-so entertaining mechanical bull, so general manager Gordy Fitzwater canceled the rest of the lineup and brought in a DJ instead. Click here to read more about it.

Call me old fashion, Mr. Fitzwater, but when you agree to take part in something like Midpoint Music Festival, you honor that commitment. It seems so simple doesn’t it?

What kind of ass, like you, would let bands travel for hours to get here, then say “no wait, we’ve changed our minds. Sorry.” What are you, a corporate suit who has no class?

Fitzwater, if you screwed up on this booking, just say no to Midpoint for next year. Don’t pull the plug when you’re basically obligated to stay the course. You are just a fool who now has the entire music community in Cincinnati against you.

Let me try to cool off.

To Cadillac Ranch: Kiss my ass. Your unprofessional behavior makes it easy for me to never go back into your place again. Your food sucks and your mixed drinks are weak anyway.

I grew up listening to The Mamas and the Papas and The Journeymen—groups that John Phillips performed with. I also remember his daughter, Mackenzie Phillips, in the old television sitcom “One Day at a Time.” Fond memories? Yeah, I guess, but that’s all a bit cloudy now.

I was more than a little shocked when Mackenzie let it be known that her own father, John Phillips, raped her, then for the next ten years, had a consensual incestuous affair. In case you missed the story last week, The Huffington Post can fill you in.

Who am I to judge anybody? Yet, here I go.

I view Mackenzie as the victim here and it’s pretty brave of her to come out on Oprah and talk about it—or is it? She’s pushing, trying to sell her book. Is that wrong? No, but, but. . .

Nope, can’t go through life with blinders on, but this news gives me a headache. I wish I didn’t know about it. I mean, can’t some sick family matters simply remain in the family?

I don’t know. Anyway, moving on. . .

What are you looking for in a date? Let’s go to Midwest Teen Sex Show and take a look at some good looking dudes who know exactly what they want.

What’s up with Texas Governor Rick Perry? Why does he pet people instead of shaking hands? Wonkette doesn’t provide an answer—but we do get a funny clip.

The Cincinnati Nation is telling us that the Metropole Apartments downtown might be replaced with a boutique hotel. Metropole is one of the last low income rental complexes downtown. If it’s done away with, where are those people going to go? On the street? Does anybody really care?

Maybe Nicholas Hollan does. He lives on the West Side of town—in Westwood (like me)—and considers himself progressive. He’s also a democrat who’s running for Cincinnati City Council. Kevin Osborne at The Daily Beattells us more about him.

And in closing out today’s post, it’s unlikely that you’ll run into any giant squids here in Cincinnati, but if you do, don’t mess with them. Slateexplains why.

I’m off—want to listen to some John Phillips music.

No, telling a lie here. I don’t think that will be happening for a very long time.

This past Wednesday, I found myself in the CityBeat offices to do a podcast (more on this next week). The buzz there was all about Benj Clarke and the current Living Out Loud column about him. If you missed it, click here to read it.

I don’t think there is one person at CityBeat—or in Cincinnati for that matter—who doesn’t love Benj. You know, hometown boy makes good, all that. And the column has been getting a lot of hits in California where he lives now. Apparently, they love him there too.

Benj plays in several bands, but I think my favorite is Larisa Stow & Shakti Tribe. The video down below is sort of a montage of their music. Benj’s the guy playing the bass.

Really good, eh?

Benj, let me know if and when you guys play Cincinnati. I want to be in the first row.

Back in June, I received the credit card in the mail replacing my old one. The expiration date had moved up to 2012.

I went to my cell phone provider’s web site and changed my credit card information. My monthly expense for the phone is put on this card and I didn’t want any trouble when it came time to process the payment. I was trying to head off a potential problem.

What the hell was I thinking?

Since June, I’ve been getting text messages on my cell phone telling me that my credit card has expired and that I need to call customer service. Like a good soldier, I follow their instructions. I’ve done it six times now.

The customer service department is in Asia. All the customer service representatives I’ve talked to are as nice as they can me. They promise to fix the problem. They always tell me “Have a nice day.”

Yes indeed. Nice. But ineffective. The problem continues.

My cell phone provider is Cricket which is kind of known to be an inexpensive (I don’t want to use the word cheap) provider but until know I’ve never had an issue with them.

Because I can’t get the payment processed through my credit card, I’ve been going into the Cricket store on Main Street downtown to pay my bill, paying the extra $3 charge for this service. The last time I went in, I asked the guy behind the desk if he could help me with the problem.

He took my credit card, typed in the information into his computer and told me the problem was taken care of.

Not. Just this morning, I got another text message from Cricket. My credit card has expired.

Would yelling and screaming at the Cricket people help? Probably not. All it would do is get by blood pressure up.

Should I change cell phone providers? Something tells me it wouldn’t be any different with the rest of them.

Should I accept the fact that customer service is bad everywhere? Yes!